


We're lost in a wilderness (in the dark, we're fighting it)

by ChocolateFrogs98



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, In which I look at canon in the face, Not today, Will be adding more characters and relationships as they appear, Ygritte Lives AU, and i tell it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2020-09-07 18:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20313943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateFrogs98/pseuds/ChocolateFrogs98
Summary: In which Ygritte lives through the Battle of Castle Black and Jon doesn't quite know what to do.





	1. How do I wake my spirit cold?

**Author's Note:**

> After I came to terms with the ending of GOT I knew I had to write some fix-it fic of some sort. And I decided that if I was going to diverge from canon I might as well do it fully.
> 
> And for me Jon was only ever truly happy when he was with Ygritte.  
(Damn, I miss her).
> 
> Also I haven't seen a lot (if at all) of fics in which Ygritte lives. So I thought I would try my hand at it.
> 
> The story title comes from the song "Please Don't Leave Me Like This" by Edward & Jane because I thought it fit. The chapter title comes from the song "Spirit Cold" by Tall Heights. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Castle Black was overrun with wildlings and half on fire. It wouldn’t stand much longer, Jon knew.

He jumped out the lift before it touched the ground, turning the momentum into a roll. A wildling was on him before he could properly stand but Jon cut him down with Longclaw.

Then there was another. And another. And another.

The sound of fighting filled his ears. The flickering lights of the fires giving enough light to see the chaos, but not enough to really comprehend it. Men fought and in the darkness of the night he couldn’t make out their clothing.

They were all men in the end. Not Men of the Night’s Watch and wildlings. Not Free Folk and crows. Just men.

He fought his way into the courtyard, never stopping. There was always another enemy there. There was always someone in front of his sword.

Ghost joined the fight and Jon felt a flicker of relief mixed with worry. He knew he didn’t need to worry. The direwolf was fiercer than all the men there put together.

Still, he worried.

Yet another Thenn died from his sword. Bodies littered the courtyard.

He spotted a Thenn making his way towards Jon with determination from the other end of the yard. That one seemed especially furious. And surprisingly tall.

He met each one of Jon’s blows with an axe and Jon evaded his. His heart hammered on his chest, ringing in his ears so loud he couldn’t even hear the fighting around him. His arms ached and his lungs burned. But he couldn’t falter. He couldn’t. Even a second of weakness would get him killed.

Jon and the Thenn moved all over the courtyard with their fighting. He ducked and jumped and slashed and thrusted. Still, the wildling matched his blows and sent more of his own.

His sword clashed against the axe in a high blow and the Thenn ripped it from his grip. The bald man punched him in the face before Jon had time to process and mourn the loss of his weapon.

He backed away as the Thenn spun with his axe, yelling wordlessly but full of anger. Jon jumped to the weapon’s rack in the middle of the yard and managed to grab a chain before it was destroyed. It was not a sword, but at least he was armed.

The chain didn’t last long.

The Thenn’s fist sank repeatedly in his stomach and Jon fought to catch his breath. The Thenn slammed his head against an anvil and pushed him over a fire.

His whole world spun. His stomach throbbed and the acute pain on his face almost brought tears to his eyes.

The wildling was there before Jon could react, dragging him up and slamming him against a wooden post. He was smiling.

Jon had spent a lot of time in Castle Black, months, years. The Thenn had not.

And Jon wouldn’t go down without a fight.

He spat on his face, feeling vindicated when it landed on his enemy’s eyes. It blinded him for a second but that was all the time Jon needed to slam a hammer on his head.

Do not push someone weaponless against a forge.

Jon fell back against the post as he tried to catch his breath. He wiped his mouth, even if it didn’t do anything to erase the taste of blood on his tongue, and stumbled to make his way back into the battle that still raged on.

He heard the tensing of a bow and froze.

It was Ygritte.

Ygritte who looked as beautiful and as fierce as she ever did.

Ygritte who was aiming an arrow at him.

It was stupid how his heart skipped a beat and his stomach swooped down. After everything they had gone through and he still felt that flare of undiluted glee whenever he saw her.

For a second he forgot they were in the middle of a battle. For a moment he forgot they were enemies. He saw her, he saw her pointing her bow at him, he saw her safe and sound. _He saw her_. And he smiled.

Her face twitched. From keeping her bow tensed for so long, from the hesitation crippling her, from the smile that threatened to answer back.

The arrow hit its mark.

It was not Ygritte’s arrow and Jon was not the mark.

His heart stopped.

Olly, blood on his face and bow on his hand, nodded at him. As if he hadn’t destroyed Jon’s whole world with a single action.

Ygritte looked down at the arrow on her chest and then back at him. He ran to her side. Not even ten feet separated him from her, but such a distance had never seemed so long.

He caught her in his arms and tried to see where she had been hit. Her eyes were low, soft.

“Jon Snow,” she said.

He knew where this was going and he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t allow it.

“Hush,” he told her. “Don’t talk.”

He gathered her in his arms, trying not to jostle her and make it worse. But he wasn’t going to stand idle and let her die in his arms.

The battle still raged on but he couldn’t care less. Ygritte gasped, in pain or surprise he didn’t know, when he stood and he hushed her.

“It’s going to be alright,” he promised.

He could feel her eyes on his skin but he refused to look down. He didn’t have a second to lose.

“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she told him.

The too familiar sentence broke his heart and his steps faltered.

“I do know some things,” he said. “Do you remember? I do know some things.”

Master Aemon couldn’t fight and so he had stayed hidden deep in the bowels of Castle Black. Jon had gone with Sam to the Library enough times to know the path by heart.

The Maester looked up when he heard the door slamming open. “Is it over?” he asked.

Jon set Ygritte down in one of the empty tables. She had lost consciousness at some point during his run but he still could feel her breathing.

“Help her,” he said and his voice broke. “Maester Aemon, you have to help her. _Please_.”

The Maester’s lips set into a disappointed frown but he stood tentatively none the less. In anticipation of the battle they had moved most of Maester Aemon’s things to the Library. In case the wildlings managed to breach the keep.

Maester Aemon’s hands found Ygritte’s shoulder and then the arrow.

“Go join your brothers, boy,” he told him. “And send Samwell Tarly to me.”

There was ‘fight to your last breath’ and then there was Tormund. The man was still standing at swinging at the black brothers who were surrounding him even with several arrows stuck to his body.

Jon felt a sudden rush of deep respect and admiration for the man.

But still... he was tired. He was so, so tired.

“Tormund,” he called. “It’s over. Let it end.”

Tormund refused to give up and so Jon had to shoot him down.

“Put him in chains,” he ordered. “We’ll question him later.”

Jon knew, unlike what he had told Tormund, it wasn’t over. Mance Ryder still outnumbered them outrageously and he had just been testing them. Just a test and yet they had lost many brothers.

Pyp was dead.

Grenn was probably dead, too.

Ygritte... No, he wouldn’t think about that.

“They’ll boil you, they’ll flay you,” Sam told him. “They’ll make it last days.”

Sam, who had found him after the battle was over and Tormund and the other wildlings were put in chains. Sam, whose face had told him everything he needed to know. Jon hadn’t even know a person’s soul could go cold.

“She’s not dead!” Sam had quickly assured. “Not yet,” he’d said as if that made it better. “Although we don’t know if she will make it.”

Somehow that was even worse.

“You’re right,” Jon conceded. “It’s a bad plan,” because going alone to see if he could get a meeting with Mance then kill him right in the middle of the Free Folk camp wasn’t just a _bad_ plan. “What’s your plan?”

Jon was tired. He was tired of fighting, tired of lying, tired of losing. He just wanted it to end.

And if killing Mance and getting himself killed in the process was the only way to do that then so be it.

They found Grenn’s body alongside four other brothers and a giant on the tunnel underneath the wall. They had held the gate in the end.

“Raise the outer gate,” Jon told Sam. “Then lower it again as soon as I’m out.”

He gave Longclaw to Sam, because it wouldn’t do much against a whole army of wildlings and he didn’t want to lose it to them.

“In case I don’t come back,” he told him.

The wind north of the wall was as cold and biting as it ever was. This time, Jon welcomed the cold. It was a relief to know there was something colder than him.

“Jon,” called Sam. “Come back,” he begged.

Jon smiled at him but he didn’t promise anything. He couldn’t and he didn’t want to. Sam understood and closed his eyes in defeat but he let him go to the other side of the wall.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

King Stannis and his army were a surprise. Not even on his wildest dreams had Jon dared to imagine thousands of men riding horseback and surrounding Mance and his army.

If only Stannis had been a day earlier.

Mace had taken a look at the knights slaughtering his men and he’d stuck his sword to the ground.

“Stand down!” he’d ordered. “I said my people have bleed enough and I meant it.”

And Jon could only respect him for that.

King Stannis was a stony-faced man who wore no crown but armor instead. He had his wife and his daughter with him and Jon could only find that strange. He listened to Jon and took Mance and his wildlings prisoners and his men helped gather the dead to burn them all.

Neither Jon nor any of his brothers wanted to fight them all over again.

Before they were to burn the dead wildlings, Jon went to see Tormund. Maester Aemon had been patching up men left and right with Sam’s help, never asking where they were from.

They had put most of the Free Folk in the holding cells. Tormund and the injured ones were in a room near the cells, somewhat more comfortable.

“You spent too much time with us, Jon Snow,” Tormund told him. “You can’t never be a kneeler again.”

Jon didn’t want to think about that.

“We’re gonna burn the bodies of your dead,” both of them knew the reason why. “Do you want to say any words over them?”

Of course the Free Folk didn’t say words over the dead. They didn’t have the time.

“The dead can’t hear us, boy,” said Tormund.

Jon nodded at him and went to the door. He didn’t have anything else to say to the man.

Tormund disagreed.

“Snow,” he called. “Did you love her?”

Jon didn’t ask who he was talking about and Tormund didn’t offer a name. It would have been an insult to them both and to Ygritte to pretend they didn’t know who he was talking about.

“She loved you,” Tormund told him.

“She told you?”

“No,” the shadow of a laugh clouded the word. “All she ever talked about was killing you,” he said. “That’s how I know.”

His throat was a painful knot and it hurt to speak. Yet he had to: for him, for her.

“She’s not dead yet,” he told the wildling. “Maester Aemon is patching her up.”

The relief in Tormund’s eyes just made Jon’s heart clench even tighter. “She’s a fighter.”

Yet she was still unconscious and Sam had told him they didn’t know if she would ever make it. “She’s lost a lot of blood, Jon,” he’d said.

“She is,” he conceded.

Tormund stared at him long and unblinking. “You don’t deserve her,” he said in the end.

Jon turned around and opened the door. “No, I don’t.”

And he stepped outside.

Jon had been putting off seeing her. He didn’t want to see her limp body, empty of life and her usual spark.

He didn’t want to make it real.

They had put her in a very small room near the kitchens. It had no windows and only a couple of candles lit up the space. It looked more like a cell than a room.

Gilly was there when Jon came in, carefully brushing her face with a wet cloth. She stood up when she saw him entering and looked down at her feet.

“I’ll leave you alone,” she said and pressed the wet cloth between his hands on her way out.

He busied himself moving the candles and lighting a fire. In the end he had nothing else to keep him from looking at her.

She was pale and still. Her eyes were closed. Slow breaths moved her body and if it wasn’t for the whiteness of her skin he could have believed she was just sleeping.

Her hand was cold between his, her fingers unresponsive. He brought it to his mouth and kissed each one of her fingertips.

“Wake up,” he whispered. “Please, wake up.”

She didn’t answer. Of course she didn’t answer.

Someone had put a clean bandage over her chest. Probably Maester Aemon but maybe Sam or even Gilly. A hint of red had already stained it.

Jon squeezed her hand. “Don’t leave,” he said. “There are many things I still don’t know. You have to teach them to me.”

But Ygritte remained silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts? I hope I haven't make the characters (basically Jon) OOC. It mostly follows the episode, though.
> 
> Hope you liked it!


	2. I am tired of my grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is made Lord Commander and has some decisions to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments, really!!
> 
> I have to admit when I started this that all my knowledge of Season 5 had completely banished so I had to watch it again. This chapter followls mostly canon with a couple of things I've fixed.

Ygritte awoke on the second day, when Jon was training his men. Sam came running, already panting from the brief exercise, and nodded at him.

He didn’t have to say anything. A nod and a smile was all it took.

Jon abandoned the recruits and almost dropped his sword in his hurry. Sam rushed behind him but Jon quickly left him behind.

Ygritte’s door was open and he stormed in. Her blue eyes found his and she scowled.

“Jon Snow,” she growled.

Jon hadn’t really expected anything else.

They had taken her weapons and there was nothing in the room she could use as such. And they both knew that.

So Ygritte looked at him, her eyes filled with hurt and betrayal and Jon stayed back when the only thing he wanted to do was hug her and kiss her. He wanted to say something, anything. He wanted to apologize but he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t really mean it. He wanted to tell her how happy he was that she was alive, how much he loved her, but he knew she didn’t want to hear that.

“Mance has been defeated,” he said instead. “He’s now a prisoner of King Stannis. The Free Folk lost.”

Because of course that was the right thing to tell the woman you love and was on the opposite side of a war: that her side had lost and she was a prisoner.

Confusion turned to denial with turned to anger. She sneered at him.

“Are you happy now, Jon Snow?” she spat. “Now all you crows can drink and eat and shit in your pretty castles hiding behind the Wall while the dead come for us all. That’s all you wanted, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t as if he had personally defeated the Free Folk. Stannis had done that.

“No,” he said. “It’s not.”

“All us Free folk dead,” she said. “Don’t every crow dream of that?”

She wouldn’t listen and he didn’t want to talk anyway. There was no use in explaining himself.

“Not all of us do,” he told her and then he left.

Mance was even more stubborn than Yggrite and he was about to die because of it.

King Stannis had sent Jon to talk with the man. He wanted his wildlings to fight on his side and he would offer them lands and a citizenship in exchange.

“I don’t want them bleeding for Stannis Baratheon either,” he had said.

Jon had argued, of course. He liked Mance and, unlike what Ygritte thought, he didn’t want the Free Folk dead.

“You’re a good lad. Truly, you are,” Mance had told him. “But if you can’t understand why I won’t enlist my people in a foreigner’s war, there’s no point explaining.”

“I think you’re making a terrible mistake,” Jon had said.

“The freedom to make my own mistakes was all I ever wanted.”

And so there they were, all of them gathered in the courtyard to see the King-Beyond-The-Wall die. Free Folk and Night’s Watch and Stannis’ men alike.

They had dressed him in black. It seemed he would die a crow after all.

Jon wondered if Stannis had done it on purpose

Two of Stannis’ men escorted Mance to stand in front of the King.

“Mance Rayder, you’ve been called the King Beyond the Wall,” Stannis said. “Westeros only has one king. Bend the knee, I promise you mercy.”

The crackling of the torches was the only sound in the full courtyard as Mance looked at the Free Folk and then straight at Jon. His eyes conveyed a hidden message and Jon knew he was asking him to remember their talk.

“Kneel and live,” Stannis told him, his voice tired.

The two kings exchanged a long look.

“This was my home for many years,” Mance said in the end. “I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.”

Jon felt disappointment hit him. A part of him had expected the man to kneel in the end.

But he had held true.

Stannis nodded and his men dragged Mance up the pyre and tied him up. The clanking of chains felt unbearably loud to Jon’s ears.

Stannis’ Red Woman stepped forward with a dramatic, religious speech. She picked a torch from one of the soldiers.

“Free folk, there is only one true king, and his name is Stannis,” she said. “Here stands the king of lies. Behold the fate of those who choose the darkness.”

She pressed the torch against the corners of the pyre, lightning it up. Jon felt disgust churning in his stomach.

“Bad way to go,” Mance had said.

It was a bad way to go indeed.

The fire climbed higher and Mance’s composure vanished. The Free Folk stirred with unrest.

Jon couldn’t keep watching.

“I don’t want people to remember me like that,” Mance had told him. “Scorched and screaming.”

The forge was near and there were still weapons sprawled around from the fight. He grabbed a bow and an arrow and rushed up the stairs. He didn’t want Mance to keep suffering like he was. His moans made it to his ears and he moved faster. It hurt to see, such a great man writhing in the flames.

Jon pulled his hand back and let go.

Everybody turned to look at him. His eyes found Ygritte’s in the crowd but he didn’t want to see the disappointment in her gaze.

He hadn’t done it for her and he hadn’t done it for himself, either. He had done it for Mance.

He went back inside, knowing that little act would haunt him on the days to come. Behind him, he knew Man’s corpse was burning in the flames.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

The last thing Jon expected was to end up becoming the 998th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.

He blamed Sam.

Jon was still trying to wrap his mind over it. He was sure Ser Alliser would be the one to get elected. And when Sam suggested him he knew he wouldn’t get many votes.

Not when his brothers knew of Ygritte and his love for her. Even if Ygritte had been moved with the other wildling prisoners and he hadn’t spoken to her since she’d woken up. Not when his brothers knew of his time beyond the Wall as a wildling and his respect for Mance Rayder. He put him out of his misery with an arrow and he knew that hadn’t been appreciated.

Yet it was a tie and Master Aemon voted for him. He voted for him even when Jon had come in the middle of a battle with his wildling lover in his arms asking him to heal her. He voted for Jon even when he disapproved because ‘love was the death of duty’.

Maester Aemon knew and he still voted for Jon.

And now Jon was Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.

It was a bit overwhelming to say the least.

And King Stannis kept trying to legitimize him and make him take Winterfell and the North back. As if Jon hadn’t been dreaming about it since he was a boy.

He had made his vows and he had his responsibilities. And he wouldn’t forego either.

Being Lord Commander was hard and isolating, but he had Sam there beside him the whole time. Olly too.

His first act as a Lord Commander was one he had thought long and hard about. Making Ser Alliser the Head of the Rangers told his brothers he was above silly pettiness. Ser Alliser had an amount of experience Jon and the Watch desperately needed those hard times.

He still made the man sweat for a bit, because he wasn’t above _all_ pettiness. And his face when he thought Jon would really put him in charge of the latrine pit was priceless.

The second part of that plan was to separate Alliser and Lord Janos Slynt. Ser Alliser might not like Jon but he was loyal to the Watch. Lord Janos was not. And King Stannis did give good advice: sending his enemies away.

Lord Janos refused and Jon had to behead him.

He didn’t regret it.

Sam had just made him sign a bundle of letters asking for men to the different houses of the North, including Lord Bolton, when Stannis’ Red Woman came to visit him.

The woman, Melissandre, made him very uncomfortable. Her eyes were always on him, dark and hungry and she always looked as if she was about to tear his clothes off.

Needless to say he didn’t really want to stay alone with her. That lift ride had been more than enough.

“Lord Commander,” she greeted.

“How can I help you?”

“Ride with us when we come South.” Was Stannis so desperate he needed to send his woman to try and convince Jon? She went off about how he knew Winterfell better than they did. “Winterfell was your home once. Don’t you want to chase the rats out of it?”

How many times would he have to repeat himself? “Castle Black is my home now. Night's Watch takes no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“There’s only one war,” she said. “Life against death.” He gaze was unnerving. “Come, let me show you what you’re fighting for.”

As if Jon didn’t know that already.

“You're gonna show me some vision in the fire?” She was getting closer. _Why_ was she walking closer? “Forgive me, my Lady. But I don't trust in visions.”

She leaned on the table in front of him. She was so close he had to look up to see her, sitting down as he was while she was standing.

“No visions. No magic,” she said. “Just life.”

And then she opened her robe so that her naked body was on sight. Jon was so taken aback he could only stare, a flash of arousal coursing through him despite himself. For a second he was entranced by her figure but then her hand touched his and Ygritte’s face flashed through his mind.

He jumped backwards, the chair toppling down with his action.

“What are you _doing_?”

“There’s a power inside you,” she told him. “Yet you resist it and that’s your mistake.” Still with her robe opened she walked towards him and Jon scooted backwards. “Embrace it,” she said. “The Lord of Light made us male and female,” she had him cornered against the wall. “Two parts of a greater whole. We are joining this power. Power to make life, power to make light, and power to cast shadows.”

What was she _talking_ about? Jon stared at her open mouthed, not quite believing his eyes or his ears. He caught her hand mid-air as she moved to open his coat.

_No way_.

“I can’t,” he said. “I love another.”

Melisandre stared at him, a secretive smile on her lips, and backed away. Jon sagged with relief against the wall.

The woman opened the door then turned around. “You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

He could only stare open mouthed at the door at the too familiar words.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Time was running out and Jon knew he couldn’t keep putting it off. The more he waited the more chances the Free Folk had of being attacked by the Army of the Dead.

Not just warriors but innocent people too. Children and elders.

Jon had accused Mance of allowing his pride to kill his people and yet there he was doing exactly the same.

“Are you sure about this?”

Sam looked afraid and hesitating in front of the door. Not that Jon could blame him.

“What are you even doing?”

Jon squared his shoulders. “I’m killing the boy.”

“You will find little joy in your command. But with luck, you will find the strength to do what needs to be done,” Maester Aemon had said when Jon had gone to him for counsel. “Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy, and let the man be born.”

Tormund was already sitting down in front of the table a scowl on his face which only deepened when he saw it was Jon on the other side of the door.

Jon turned to Sam, hovering at his side. He had asked his friend to bring the wildling to that empty room so they could talk in peace and Sam had obeyed but not without expressing his disapproval of the plan.

“Leave us.”

Sam sputtered with indignation but Jon’s glare silenced him. Chastised, he nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

Jon dragged the chair against the stone floor, making as much noise as he could, and sat down. He eyed Tormund as he tried to figure out where to start.

“Where are the rest of the Free Folk now?” Tormund scoffed so Jon pressed on. “Where have they gone?” The redhead leaned back on his chair and remained silent. Jon hadn’t really expected anything else. “Who leads them?”

“They followed Mance. They won’t follow anyone else.”

“What about you?”

“Hard to lead when you’re in chains,” Tormund raised his hands.

“What if I unchained you?”

The answer this time came quick. “Why would you do that?”

Jon measured his words. “Because you are not my enemy. And I’m not yours.”

“You sure seemed like my enemy when you were killing my friends.”

Jon had been ready for this, he had expected this. “For 8,000 years the Night's Watch have sworn an oath to be the shield that guards the realms of men,” he said. “And for 8,000 years we've fallen short of that oath. You belong to the realms of men. All of you.”

Tormund wasn’t impressed. “And now everything is going to change?”

“It is.”

“Why now?”

“Because now,” Jon leaned forward to rest his elbows on top of the table, bringing himself closer to him and closing some of the distance between them. Showing that he was a friend, that he was on his side. “I am Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.”

“What would you have me do,” Tormund also leaned forward. “Lord Commander?”

Jon stood up. “I'd have you go north of the Wall. Gather the remaining Free Folk wherever they are and bring them back here,” he told him. “I'll open the gates for them and let them through. I'll find them lands to settle south of the Wall.”

“They won’t kneel for you,” Tormund stressed. “And neither will I.”

“I don't want them to kneel for me. I want them to fight with me when the time comes.”

“The day I ask my people to fight with the crows is the day my people cut my guts from my belly and make me eat them.”

Jon stepped closer. “And how many of your people can't fight?” he asked lowly. “The women, the children, the old, the sick, what happens to them? You're condemning them to death. Worse than death because you're too proud to make peace.” Tormund looked away and Jon pressed on. “Or maybe you're not proud. Maybe you're just a coward.

Tormund stood up slowly and crowded Jon’s space. “Easy thing to say to a man in chains,” he all but growled.

Not taking his eyes of the wildling, Jon unchained defiantly. _Fight me_, his eyes told him. _Fight me now if you dare_.

Tormund’s eyes widened and he touched his hands in silence.

“Your people need a leader. And they need to get south of the Wall before it's too late. We don't have much time and they have less. The walkers are coming and they'll hit your people first.” Tormund’s eye twitched. “I'm not asking you to make peace to save your skin. Make peace to save your people.”

Tormund took in his words silently. And then. “Most of them are at Hardhome. You know where that is?”

Jon had never gone there himself but he knew where it was. “Up on Storrold's Point. I can give you 10 horses” he went back to the table “and nine other men. You can get there in a week.”

“We'll need ships.”

“I'll talk to King Stannis about lending you his fleet.” It wasn’t as if Stannis would be needing those ships.

“All right, then.” Jon felt hope flaring at his words. “You're coming with me.” And the hope vanished. “You're the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. They need to hear it from you. They need to know the ships they are boarding won’t be torched in the middle of the sea. You come with me, or I don't go.”

Jon knew him well enough to know he was capable of standing up to his threat. The free man would not back down.

“Alright then,” he conceded.

The easy part was over. Now it came the hard part.

Talking to the Night’s Watch.

Jon resented Sam for making him Lord Commander once more.

He had just wanted to be a Ranger.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

“He refuses to go alone.”

Jon looked up from the letters he’d been sent. He hadn’t heard Sam come in and Sam wasn’t the sneakiest of persons.

“The wildling,” said Sam. “He refuses to go alone.”

Jon held back the urge to correct him. “He’s not going alone. He’s going with me and several brothers of the Night’s Watch.”

Sam looked at him pointedly. “That’s exactly what he says. He says he’ll look like a prisoner-”

“He _is_ a prisoner.”

“He says he’ll look too much like a prisoner and they won’t take him seriously.” At Jon’s incredulous expression he was quick to add “He has a point.”

He did have a point. It would be difficult enough to get the Free Folk to believe them, even with one of their own selling the tale. Anything would help.

Jon rubbed his face. “So he intends to bring a dozen of men with him to feel safe?”

“He says a couple will be enough.”

He sighed. “Alright,” he conceded. “Tell Duncan Tormund is allowed to choose two men to come with him.”

He leaned on his elbows and pressed the palm of his hands against his eyes. Being Lord Commander was hard. It felt as if every little decision was his to make and the responsibility of everything fell on his shoulders.

Most of his men hated him already, what was a couple more?

“If it’s any consolation,” Sam’s voice made him look up. “I think you’re doing the right thing. Saving as many people as you can. That has to be the right thing.”

He smiled tiredly. “Thank you, Sam.”

Now he just had to convince the rest of the Watch.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Edd brought out only two wildlings from the prisoner’s cells. Tormund was easily recognizable for his high stature and his bright red hair, while the other, shorter and smaller, had his hood on. Jon looked at Tormund with surprise; he had expected him to bring three men at least. Tall warriors like himself.

The man stared hard at him, as defiant as ever.

Once they were in front of him, Jon took a good look at the other prisoner. And his stomach dropped.

With chained hands the second prisoner slipped the hood off. There were gasps of surprise around the courtyard.

Jon took half a step back and glared at Tormund. The man only shrugged with an unapologetic smirk.

Ygritte raised her hands and shook them, making the chain rattle.

“Care to free me, Lord Crow?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody should really tell Jon how to speak with women. Also he and Ygritte need to have a loooooong talk.
> 
> (I fixed the Melissandre part because wtf Jon?)
> 
> So, thoughts?


	3. Letting go is what is best sometimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talks are had. Jon gets on a boat. Also, there's Tormund.

They had four days of riding until Eastwatch-by-the-sea and then two more of sailing until Hardhome if the winds were favourable.

Jon was already dreading it.

He could feel all the eyes on him. His fellow brothers’ guarded gazes: they were wondering if Ygritte was just a wildling woman or _his_ wildling woman. Tormund’s amused looks: he was taking far too much joy from the situation.

And her eyes, too. Her eyes never left him but he couldn’t bring himself to look back.

There was a time when he believed he wouldn’t see her eyes looking at him ever again and he despaired over it. Now she kept staring at him and it was agonizing torture.

They rode hard and fast, Jon knowing how urgent it was for them to make it to Hardhome as soon as possible. The Night King could attack any second.

Also, the sooner he got the wildlings on the other side of the Wall, the sooner Ygritte would stop looking at him like that.

It was a look he couldn’t quite decipher and he didn’t want to. There was too much showing in her eyes and he was scared to see what they said.

He was afraid they would say she still loved him and he was afraid they would say she didn’t.

They stopped for the night after a long day of riding. They had covered more ground than Jon had expected and so he was a little less bitter.

“Is that her, then?” Edd asked him while they put up a tent to get some kind of shelter. “Your wildling woman?”

They both looked at Ygritte. She was skinning a rabbit with such a ferocity the other Black Brothers were giving her a wide berth. Jon didn’t dare to ask where she had gotten the knife, or worse, the rabbit.

“Yes,” he conceded. There was no denying it. Not when all his Brothers had probably seen the looks between the two of them.

“She’s pretty,” Edd told him. As if that made it somewhat better.

But Ygritte was much more than pretty. She was beautiful. The fire light up her determined expression and made her even more perfect in Jon’s eyes.

_Gingers are kissed by fire._

As if she felt her eyes on him she looked up and met his gaze. He quickly turned back to his tent.

She scoffed.

Jon didn’t turn back.

He couldn’t sleep.

It was cold but he was used to the cold. The wind howled in the night and rattled his tent but that wasn’t what was bothering him either. Edd snored louder than the wind could ever howl. He slept on the floor but that wasn’t the problem either. He’d slept on the floor many times before.

After tossing on his pallet for ten minutes without the restlessness leaving him, he came to the conclusion that he wasn’t getting any sleep this time. And if he wasn’t getting any sleep, he might as well let others do.

Harrold was in charge of keeping watch but sitting as close as he was to the fire he wouldn’t be able to see much in the darkness. Still, Jon couldn’t blame him.

It was cold, after all.

And Harrold was mostly supposed to keep watch on their two wildling ‘guests’ anyway.

He didn’t look very alert and his face of utter relief and gratitude when Jon told him he was relieving him of his post made him smile.

The moon was almost full. The fire popped and cracked, the embers dancing in the air. The night was silent; the only sounds were the snores of his sleeping Brothers. Jon closed his eyes and let it all wash over him.

His head was buzzing with thoughts and that was what didn’t let him sleep. It wasn’t an easy path he was riding on, but it was the right one. Of that he was sure.

Saving the Free Folk would save them all in the end.

“Seems you finally got it.”

Jon should have expected Ygritte to be awake. He opened his eyes and searched for her in the dark. She had sat up while he mused and was staring at him from the other side of the fire.

Her eyes looked like flames.

“Got what?”

Her answer was slow to come and for a long moment Jon doubted she would say anything at all. “We’re all on the same side,” she said in the end.

She was right. She’d always been right. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand it before.”

“Why didn’t you?”

It wasn’t so much that he didn’t understand it, more like he’d been immersed in other things. He had to protect his brothers first, warn them, he owed his loyalty to them. He’d found himself deep in the Free Folk army without even knowing how and was still trying to come to grips with that. There were also his vows, which he broke every moment he was with her but he still couldn’t help himself because he loved her.

He thought he was doing the right thing: saving lives and keeping true to his oath.

His oath didn’t say anything about killing wildlings or letting them die and it had taken him being in charge to realize he was the only one who could do something about it.

He opened his mouth to tell her that but no words came. Everything sounded like a cheap excuse and she deserved better than that.

“I don’t know,” he said instead.

There was a beat.

“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she said and he imagined a smile in her voice. There was one on his lips anyway.

“I guess I don’t.” He hoped it sounded like an apology.

Her gaze was inscrutable. “I guess you don’t,” she said and lay back down.

His mouth tasted of ashes as he went back to peer into the night.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

It was his first time on a ship.

Jon knew how to swim, of course. He’d bathed in the pools of Winterfell many times with his siblings and he’d learnt how to swim when he was so young he couldn’t even remember it.

Still, he’d never been on a boat and the constant sway of the ship was making his stomach turn. There was no escaping it either, no place where the swaying stopped, and so he’d taken to stay outside on the deck. The cold winter air helped settle him.

Edd found it amusing and he took to teasing him as much as he could. He also loved to see Jon stumbling around the ship and asking him if the Lord Commander had had a bit too much to drink.

Jon was regretting his life choices, leaning over the railing and watching the dark sea sprinkled with white underneath him when Ygritte found him.

“Drink this.” She handed him a steaming cup filled with a light brown liquid.

“What is this?” He sniffed it. It tickled his nose and reminded him of mint. Still he wasn’t sure he wanted to drink that.

“Tea,” she said. “Drink it.”

She glared at him and he glared at her. She cocked one eyebrow.

“Unless you want t’ keep throwing up ‘till there’s nothin’ left inside you,” she added.

Jon drank. He wrinkled his nose even if it wasn’t that bad. It was hot but it cooled him inside at the same time.

“Thank you.”

“The men was complainin’,” she told him. “I thought a fancy lord like you would know to hold it in.”

He frowned. “It’s not like I’ve been on a ship before!”

“Oh, I’m Jon Snow and I’ve never been on a boat!” she mocked him lowering her voice to do a poor imitation of his. “I always ride a horse and I’m scared of water!”

He couldn’t bite back his smile. His heart felt warm for the first time in weeks.

She smiled back. It was like the clouds had parted and the sun had finally made an appearance after a long winter.

Gods, Jon was turning into an idiot.

“Have you ever been on a ship?”

“The Free Folk don’t build ships like this.” She patted the railing. “We have other boats,” she said. “In my village we used them to fish.” She ended the sentence simply, telling him there wasn’t anything else to the story. She considered him in silence for a long moment. “You broke my heart,” she told him.

He had also broken his own in the process. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” She didn’t sound heartbroken, just curious.

“You were protecting your people, I was protecting mine.”

She scowled. “_You_ were my people.” And her voice was full of anger and hurt and betrayal. “I could’ve been yours.”

Jon wanted to grab her hand. He wanted to hug her tight and never let go. “I made my vows,” he said. “What kind of man would I be if I broke them?” He dared to reach with one hand and brush hers. “You said I was loyal and brave. Would you have wanted me any other way?”

She stared at the horizon. “I guess not,” she said. “You’re not gonna break your vows now.”

He knew which vows in particular she was referring to. He pulled his hand back, reality crashing against him.

“I’m the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch,” he reminded more for himself than for her. “I can’t.” It wouldn’t be fair to her. He wouldn’t be able to be her husband or give her children or put her first. He couldn’t love her like she deserved.

She seemed sad. “You finally understand we’re all on the same side and we’re back to the beginnin’.”

“It’s what’s best for both of us.”

She stared at him. “Is it?” She shook her head and stepped away from the bannister. “Keep the cup.”

He watched her go, feeling an ache on his heart with every step she took away from him. It was the right thing to do and they both knew that. They couldn’t be together. It was the right thing to do.

Then why did it hurt so much?

A hand clasped him on the back and almost sent him overboard.

“You’re an idiot,” Tormund said.

Was there no one watching the two wildlings?

“You love her and she loves you and yet you keep hurting her,” Tormund said. As if Jon hadn’t been aware of that fact. “I don’t understand why she doesn’t rip your cock off and throws it to the sea.”

“I don’t either,” Jon said dryly.

Tormund blinked at him. “So you _know_ you’re being an idiot,” he said. “And yet you keep going.” He seemed very confused at the notion. “That makes you even more of an idiot.”

“Thank you.”

The redhead shook his head. “Love is love, Jon Snow,” he told him sadly. “There’s no stopping it and there’s no hiding it. I don’t understand why you’re even trying.”

“Sometimes there are things more important than love.”

Tormund stared at him as if he had lost his mind. “Nothing is more important than love,” he said and put one massive hand over Jon’s shoulder. “And it saddens me that you don’t know that.”

_Love is the death of duty_.

Tormund laughed. “No wonder all you southerners are always so bitter.”

Jon should have gone in another ship. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have ships to choose from, he had a whole fleet. Maybe that way he would have been left to brood and commiserate on his own.

“I knew it couldn’t be the whole ‘no women’ thing,” Tormund was still talking. “’Cause I figured all you crows were fucking each other.”

Jon took a deep breath. “We don’t.”

Tormund blinked at him. “Oh,” he said. “You have sheep on top of the wall, then?”

“_No_.”

If he jumped would anybody catch him?

“Have I ever told you about that time I fucked a bear?”

O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Jon never thought he would ever feel so grateful for making it into a wildling occupied shore.

They were waiting for him. For him and his brothers. Their faces weren’t very welcoming and Jon was very thankful he’d brought Tormund when they faced against the Lord of Bones.

Even if Tormund’s methods were a bit... drastic.

Ygritte had been in the boat behind them and she arrived just in time to see Tormund beating the Lord of Bones to a pulp with his own staff.

“Good,” she said barely batting an eye. “He was an arsehole.”

And she followed Tormund to the main tent.

Jon had no other choice than to follow them.

“Do you think we’ve brought the right wildlings?” Edd asked him.

Jon knew they were the best he could have brought. “Yes.”

The Elders gathered quickly, though most of them weren’t that old. All their eyes fell on him and it made Jon’s stomach churn. The wind howled as everybody waiting for him to speak.

He didn’t know how to start.

“My name is Jon Snow.” His eyes found Ygritte, who had gone stand in the background. “I’m Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch.” She shouldn’t be in the background. She should be by his side. “We’re not friends.” He missed her. “We’ve never been friends. We won’t become friends today.”

Yggrite raised one eyebrow, amused. _What are you even saying, Jon Snow_? Her eyes told him.

Jon would like to know that himself, too.

“This isn’t about friendship.” _Jon, focus_. “This is about survival.” He tore his gaze away from her and looked at the rest of the Free Folk. “This is about putting a 700 foot wall between you and what’s out there.” That was more like it.

“You built that wall to keep us out,” one of the women pointed out.

“Since when do crows give two shits if we live?” a Thenn spat.

Jon couldn’t blame him, he had a point after all.

“In normal times we wouldn’t,” he admitted. “But these aren’t normal times. The White Walkers don’t care if a man is Free Folk or Crow. We’re all the same to them. Meat to their army. But together we can beat them.”

_Hopefully_.

“Beat the White Walkers?” said the woman that had spoken before. Amusement clouded her voice. “Good luck with that. Run from them, maybe,” she conceded.

They hadn’t had any way to fight the dead, Jon realized, only fire and that wasn’t the best course of action in a frozen wasteland. No wonder they’d been so desperate to make it past the wall.

So he held out the bag filled with Dragonglass daggers that Sam had given him before he left. The woman stepped back and her man stood over her to protect her.

Jon walked slowly, eyeing the rest of the cabin, and handed it to her. “It’s not a trick,” he swore softly. She must have believed him for she grabbed the satchel. “It’s a gift,” he said stepping back. “for those who join us,” he added louder for the rest.

The woman opened the satchel and grabbed a dagger. She looked at him.

“Dragonglass,” Jon explained and the woman passed the bag to her right. “A man of the Night’s Watch used one of these daggers to kill a Walker.”

“You saw this?” the Thenn asked.

Jon would have liked to see it. “No. But I trust the man.”

He trusted Sam with his life.

“There are old stories about Dragonglass,” the woman was still looking at her dagger.

The Thenn grabbed the satchel that another Elder was handing him. “There are old stories about ice spiders big as hounds.”

Gods, Jon hoped those weren’t true.

“And with the things we’ve seen you don’t believe them?”

“Come with me and I'll share these weapons.” Jon tried to get the conversation back on course.

The woman stared at him. “Come with you where?”

“There are good lands south of the wall,” he said loudly so that everybody could hear him. “The Night's Watch will allow you through the tunnel and allow your people to farm those lands.”

The Free Folk muttered among themselves. They seemed at least receptive to the idea.

“I knew Mance Rayder,” Jon said. “He never wanted a war with the Night’s Watch, he wanted a new life for his people. For you. We’re prepared to give you that new life.”

“If…?” the chieftess urged him. She was smart.

“If you swear you join us when the real war begins.”

He let them process it. It was a fair request, Jon considered, but it still came from the Night’s Watch. Jon knew they would find it hard to believe no matter what he said.

“Where is Mance?” The Thenn asked the question Jon had been dreading.

“He died.”

The Thenn wasn’t having it. “How?”

Jon hesitated. No matter what he said he knew there would be repercussions. The Thenn didn’t break eye contact and so Jon didn’t either.

“I put an arrow through his heart.”

The effect was instantaneous. The Free Folk stood up, hands going to their weapons and shouting. Most of them were insults.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Beside him Tormund tried to bring back the peace.

“I say we send the Lord Commander back to Castle Black,” the Thenn started softly. “with no eyes.”

He grabbed his axe and walked towards Jon. But suddenly Ygritte was in front of him, her bow drawn and pointing straight at the Thenn’s heart.

“Don’t take another step,” she warned lowly. “Or it’ll be the last one you take.” She glared at the others. “You weren’t there!” she exclaimed. “You didn’t see what happened.”

They muttered with unrest.

“The Southern King who broke our army, Stannis, wanted to burn him alive to send him a message,” Tormund stepped forward. “Jon Snow defied that cunt’s orders.” Ygritte lowered her bow. “His arrow was mercy. What it did took courage, and that’s what we need today: the courage to make peace with men we’ve been killing for generations.”

Ygritte stepped backwards until she was standing by his side, hitting his shoulder in the process. She still had her bow at the ready but it was pointing to the ground.

“If you want to die I can think of better ways, Jon Snow,” she hissed at him.

He felt something warm on the middle of his chest. She still cared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ygritte and Jon have too much story to fix it just like that, but they're getting there.
> 
> Tormund is the champion of love. Jon is a big softie inside.
> 
> Also, catch me worrying a thousand times "is this in character?" "would Ygritte say this?" "would she say it *this* way?" I decided to stop overthinking it after spending twenty minutes looking up plants that grew up in Norway and similar weathers from which Ygritte could know to make her sea-sickness calming tea.
> 
> Aaaaanyway, I hope you liked it! Leave a comment!


	4. Hardhome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Hardhome happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *3 months later...* Guess who's back (back again)?
> 
> Sorry to keep you waiting but here you go! And thank you all for the comments and kudos and bookmarks!!!

From the shore Edd signalled the ships with a torch and the boats started to come.

“You should tell your people to pack their things,” Jon told the chieftess who had spoken in his favour on the Elders' cabin. “Only what’s necessary,” he added.

Her look was unamused. “We only carry what’s necessary,” she said. “I’ll tell them we’re going. They won’t take it too well if it comes from you or your men, I fear.”

She disappeared before Jon could give an answer. Beside him, Tormund laughed.

“Karsi is a feisty one,” he told him. “You’re lucky you’ve gotten her on your side.”

Jon looked at the Free folk. Some of them were packing, while others went back to the camp outside the gates. He spotted the Thenn chieftain who had refused to join them and frowned.

“Not all of them are,” he said.

Tormund huffed. “Loboda is a Thenn,” he said. “Thenns don’t like breaking tradition too much.” He scowled. “I fucking hate Thenns.”

The first boats were making it to the shore. Jon rushed to help them. He was feeling anxious and restless, doing something, anything, would be better than staying still and waiting.

Torren greeted him grimly from one of the boats and Jon helped him steady it.

“How many on a boat?” he asked him. “What do you reckon?”

Torren studied his vessel. “No more than eight,” he said. “And two of us will need to be rowing.”

Jon nodded. “We should get the children first,” he told Tormund.

The other man eyed him appreciatively. “Thought you’d want to go for the warriors first.”

“I’m here to save as many people as I can,” Jon said tiredly. “Not gather an army.”

Tormund patted his shoulder. “I’ll take care of it,” he said. “I need some children for this boat!” he bellowed.

Jon thought he could have done that himself, too.

Two girls and a little boy stepped forward. Their resemblance told him they were related, all of them with the same brown hair and blue eyes. They were scrawny and their eyes were wide and terrified. Jon felt very sorry for them. He tried a smile but the boy, he couldn’t be older than five, gasped and cowered behind his sisters.

Jon figured there probably were dozens of stories to scare the children about the crows on the wall. Most of them didn’t even need to be false.

A man stood behind the kids. Their father, Jon figured. “Can I go with them?” he asked, his voice shaking.

Tormund looked at Jon, who nodded. He wouldn’t send those kids across the sea and to an unknown ship full of strange unwelcoming faces all on their own.

While Tormund and the children’s father helped the kids get on the boat, Jon scanned the crowd that had gathered around them.

“Who else wants to get on this boat?”

A frail looking woman and her granddaughter were the last two passengers. And then the first boat left Hardhome.

It was cold and Jon was freezing. He couldn’t stop: they still had too many people to evacuate. Jon would have loved to go faster but the boats couldn’t bear more people than they did or they would sink and there simply weren’t more vessels.

Ygritte was helping a couple of boats away from Jon, not in the pier but on the shore. Not that Jon was keeping an eye on her or anything.

“How many are with us?” Jon asked Tormund as he passed in front of him. “Five thousand?”

Tormund glanced at the bay. “I’m not good at counting.” And he grabbed one of the backpacks that a man was piling on the deck.

“We’re leaving too many behind.”

Thousands of Free Folk remained on the other side of the enclosure, not making any preparations to move. Not only all the Thenns had refused but at least five other Elders had done so too and that made tens of thousands of people.

How could Jon leave them behind? He had gone to save all of them. Not a small part.

“The Free Folk are stubborn,” Tormund told him. “You know how long it took Mance to band them together. Twenty fucking years.”

And Mance had also had the Army of the Death looming nearby.

Jon nodded to himself. “And he knew them better than I ever will.” He sighed.

Not to mention that he was a crow offering to help. And Jon couldn’t blame them for not trusting his word after all the history they had together.

“They’re running out of food,” Tormund said lowly. “And there’s nothing to hunt. They’ll come ‘round.”

He didn’t know if that reassured him or made him feel worse.

Tormund clapped him on the back. “There’s nothing else you can do now,” he said. “So help get people on the boats.”

The redhead had a point. Jon took post in the boat nearest to the shore and went back to helping children and old people and women get in. Stannis fleet had several boats so Jon didn’t have to wait long between embarkation and embarkation.

Most of them were afraid of him. Some angry, some sceptic, some confused. But all of them mistrusting.

Still, Jon kept the boat steady for them and offered a hand to help them in. Even if almost none of them took it.

The dogs started to bark. To bark and howl and growl. His hair stood on end.

The Free folk stirred with unrest as everybody tried to see what was making the dogs so nervous. The wind picked up and the temperature dropped several degrees. As if it wasn’t cold enough.

On the cliff that overlooked the camp a storm started to gather. The crackling of moving snow filled Jon’s stomach with lead. The storm drifted down the sides of the cliff, not unlike an avalanche. But very much unlike a storm.

No, that wasn’t normal. There was something dark to it.

The dogs whimpered and cried.

The men and women on the other side of the gate started to shout. There were confused shouts, angry shouts and pained cries.

Jon looked at Tormund. He had a bad feeling about the whole thing. Tormund’s panicked gaze told him it was what he dreaded.

The pleading screams of the ones left on the other side resonated on the empty camp. Nobody dared to make a sound. The storm on the cliff kept spilling over the exterior camp. The wind blew snow on their faces and, beside him, Tormund looked ready to flee.

“Open the gate!” came from the other side of the wooden wall.

“Let us in!”

“Wait!”

“Help us!”

The screams cut off. Everybody waited with baited breath while the last persisting ones also faded away. The wind howled in Jon’s ears.

He caught sight of Ygritte, her red hair unmistakable in the midst of furs. She was toying with the string of her bow and when Jon looked at her he saw she was absolutely terrified.

There was silence.

Then the shouting was back.

A sea of Free Folk made a mad run towards the shore and towards Jon. They pushed and shoved in their desperation to make it out, not even caring that the water was all but frozen and that there weren’t that many boats.

Jon pushed back. “Get in line!” he shouted. “Get in line!”

But there was no use. Jon was surrounded by desperate men and women who didn’t want to face what was coming for them. There were too many people, everybody shouting and yelling and pushing.

_Ygritte_, Jon searched the faces around him. _Where’s Ygritte?_

But he couldn’t see the spot where she’d been moments ago, several dozens of terrified wildlings on the way.

At his back Tormund roared wildly.

Even more people came. It seemed everybody was there, trying to get to safety.

They would sink the boats, Jon knew it. They wold try to jump on them and drown or sink the boats.

“We need to push them back!” Jon shouted, hoping that there was somebody near him who could help him. “If they make it to the boats they’ll sink them.”

A couple of his brothers joined him. But it wasn’t enough. The Free Folk were desperate to get out and they pushed and fought against him.

“Hold the line!” Jon yelled. Falling into a panic wouldn’t help anybody. If they sank the boats then nobody would get out alive. “HOLD THE LINE!”

Screaming didn’t really work because everybody else was also shouting. Jon couldn’t even hear himself think.

He needed to push the wildlings back to give the others a chance. That was all he knew.

“Lord Commander!” he heard Harrold call for him.

Jon turned and several wildlings took advantage of his distraction to make a run for it. “Get them to the ship and come back for me!” he ordered.

Harrold’s eyes were wide. “But you’ll never make-”

Jon didn’t have time for it. “NOW!”

He was pushed by several more wildlings as they tried to make it to the sea and Jon struggled to keep his feet on the ground. He wanted to scream and shout and tear his hair out in frustration.

He spotted Karsi helping another young woman make it to the boats.

“You should be on one of those boats!” he told her rushing towards her.

“So should you!” she bit back. “My little girls have gone on. They're gonna let them pass the wall even if you’re not there?”

“You have my word,” Jon promised her. “I’ve given orders.”

“Don’t think you’re gonna be there to enforce those orders.” She was angry. But Jon couldn’t just happily get on a boat while all these people fought to get to safety.

Jon just hopped Ygritte had made it in one of the boats.

Tormund grabbed his arm. “If they get through,” he pointed towards the gate. “everyone dies.”

Well… at least it was something else to do.

Jon unsheathed his sword. Beside him Tormund did the same.

“NIGHT’S WATCH!” he bellowed. “WITH ME!” He pushed everybody who stood on his way. “Move! Move! Move!”

Jon ran as fast as he could. He knew Tormund was close behind. The further away they went from the shore, the less crowded it was. Until…

The gate was a battlefield on itself. Some wights had managed to cross over and some more were doing so from a hole they had opened on the wood.

Without a second thought Jon launched himself to the wight and pinned it to the wall with Longclaw. It resisted.

“Tormund!” he yelled. “The sleigh!”

An arrow pinned the wight’s arm to the wood and Jon turned.

Of course it was Ygritte.

She shot another arrow, this one ruffling his hair as it went, and it sunk on the creature’s eye. It stopped moving just long enough for Tormund and some men to put a sleigh over it to patch up the hole.

Jon staggered backwards.

“What are you doing here?” he shouted at Ygritte.

She nocked an arrow and shot down another wight without even looking. “Savin’ your life,” she said smugly.

He took the head of what had once been a young woman. “You should be on the boats!”

“So should you!” She pointed an arrow at him and let it fly over his shoulder. “Now it’s not the time to argue, Jon S…” she trailed off, looking at somewhere in the distance.

Four riders had appeared in the cliff. And below the cliff was the cabin with wights climbing over the roof.

“The dragonglass!”

Loboda, the Thenn chieftain, gestured at him. “You’re with me, lad!”

Jon hesitated.

“GO!” Tormund pushed him.

Jon shot Ygritte one last look. “Get on the boats,” he told her. And then he followed the Thenn inside a wight infested cabin.

Ygritte watched him go until Tormund yelled at her to get her head back on the fight. He wanted her to get on a boat while he stayed fighting?

It was like he didn’t know her at all.

Righteous fury filled her and helped push down a bit of the fear those monsters caused her. Their blue eyes plagued her nightmares and their ice-cold smell burned her lungs.

One of them launched itself at her and she had to hit it with her bow. It wasn’t the best of weapons in such a close fight but she did her best to keep them away from her.

Cold hands wrapped around her throat and she scrambled to find her knife by her waist. Tormund appeared out of nowhere, roaring, and ripped its head clean off its shoulders with his sword.

“Grab a sword,” he growled at her. “Don’t get killed.”

And then he was gone again, the only thing he left behind the echo of his shout.

There were plenty of wounded or dead men and women laying around. Ygritte grabbed one of their swords. She wasn’t the best at it, but there wasn’t much skill needed in killing wights.

She glanced at the cabin.

_Come on, Jon Snow. Come on_.

There were far more dead people than live one. Ygritte slashed and lunged and stabbed but no matter what she did there was always at least one wight in front of her ready to kill her.

A figure stumbled out of the cabin.

_Jon_. Ygritte could have cried of relief.

Jon was clutching his stomach and he tripped, falling face-first on the ground. Worry pooled low in her stomach: he was injured. And then an Other stalked out the cabin, its steps slow and measured and ice sword on hand.

Ygritte’s blood froze. Her heartbeat roared in her ears.

Something crashed against her, slamming her against the ground. A yelp got caught in her throat as she tried to scramble away. The wight’s hands clawed at her shoulders while it screeched. Lured by the sound more lurked nearby.

The wight exploded.

Karsi came running and cut down two of the wights closing on Ygritte. She fired at the remaining ones.

Ygritte was running low on arrows.

The other woman helped her up. “What did you do to it?” she asked eyeing the remains of the exploding wight.

“Nothin’!”

But there wasn’t time for arguing because more and more dead men came for them. Ygritte stabbed at one on the heart and took off another’s arm as she got out her sword. She kicked an approaching one away from her and Karsi swooped in to finish it off.

What had once been a tall Thenn crashed against her but this time Ygritte stood her ground. She swung upwards with her sword and cut him open from below his navel to his sternum.

Panting with exertion she looked over at Karsi, expecting the other woman to be fighting.

She wasn’t. She had frozen, completely paralyzed.

Six child-wights stood in front of her. With a curse Ygritte dropped her sword and loaded her bow as fast as she could. She got two of them before they made it to the other woman and Ygritte had to jump in to throw some blows.

“What are you_ doin’?_” she yelled at the woman.

Karsi looked shocked to her core and with a growl Ygritte ripped one of her axes from her hand to deal with the dead children. One of them had no eyes and she would have expected it to be less upsetting than the blue eyes, but it wasn’t.

She sank the axe in its face and slapped another away with her bow. She freed her weapon just in time for the third to come running and she slashed at his throat with as much strength as she could muster.

The ones she’d hit with the arrows stood up again. “Oh, fuck off.”

Ygritte gave Karsi back her axe and grabbed a downed spear which she threw towards the children. It impaled one of them and pinned it to the ground.

“Do something,” she growled at Karsi.

The three remaining children came at them and Ygritte fended them off with her bow. They gnawed at the wood and reached for her but she danced away from their hands.

An inhuman screech made them all freeze. The child-wights looked towards the cliff and Ygritte followed their gaze.

Hundreds of wights ran themselves of the cliff. Then stood up again.

Karsi grabbed her shoulder and dragged her away. Ygritte didn’t think her legs would work.

“We need to go, _now_,” Karsi told her.

“Oh, why didn’t I think of that meself?” Ygritte spat at her.

They dodged wights and jumped over injured men and corpses alike.

“We need to get to the sea,” Karsi panted. “Get on a boat.”

Ygritte seriously doubted there would be any boats left. Still, she kept that positive thought to herself.

She saw the sea and the pier. Wun-Wun was crashing wights beside it and there _was_ a boat.

A hand clutched at her hair and Ygritte slapped it away. The wights were almost on them. They would never make it.

She searched in her quiver for her remaining arrows.

“We’re almost there!” Karsi told her. “Don’t slow now.”

Ygritte readied an arrow and jumped over a dead body. She only had three left. “Keep going,” she said steadily.

“No!” The other woman started to slow down too.

Ygritte glared at her. “Don’t stop!” she yelled. “I’m right behind you!”

Shooting an arrow while running wasn’t Ygritte’s favourite way of doing it but there was no way she was stopping to take aim. She fired at the fastest runners, not that far from her, and felt a swell of pride when she hit one of them.

Two left. Breathe in, nock, draw, loose. Another one down.

One left. Breathe in, nock, draw-

She slipped and went down when her feet found the slippery wood of the pier. She didn’t have time to process the fall for a wight was already on her.

“YGRITTE!”

She stabbed its eye with her last arrow and scrambled from under it. The boat had already left and Jon Snow stood on it looking at her with the most heartbroken expression on his face.

Ygritte passed two struggling fighters and launched herself to the sea.

It burned. Her whole body burned. Every single cell in her body screamed at her in protest. It was utter agony. Her head broke out the water and the wind nipped at her cheeks. She struggled to draw breath but her lungs weren’t cooperating.

_Move_, she told herself. _Move_.

Right hand, left hand. _Breathe_. Right hand, left hand. _Breathe_.

Painfully she made her way to the boat. Cold enveloped her. Her muscles seized up and she fought to push herself further. Right hand, left hand. _Breathe_. Luckily for her, they weren’t that far away.

Hands pulled her up on the boat and she flopped down like a dead fish. Jon’s concerned face hovered over hers.

“Ygritte?” his voice shook.

She tried a smile. She was shivering so hard her muscles weren’t working. “Cold,” she gasped.

Jon helped her sit up and grabbed her face. His hands burned against her skin.

“You, stubborn woman,” he told her, his voice choked up. “I told you to get to the boats.”

Had she had enough air, the kiss would have left her without it anyway. His lips were fire against her ice-cold ones, hard and unforgiving.

Everybody was gaping at them. Even Wun-Wun seemed astonished.

“You’re not a very conventional Commander, are you?” Karsi told Jon.

His laugh was choked and full of too many emotions. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it.”


End file.
